


Not Even for An Hour

by LSquared80



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, More fluff than I intended, Post 8.04, Pregnancy, Quick appearances by a few other characters, Tiny bit of Cersei, on the road
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 15:20:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18759091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LSquared80/pseuds/LSquared80
Summary: A series of scenes after Jaime departs Winterfell and Brienne decides what to do next.





	Not Even for An Hour

**Author's Note:**

> After episode 8.04, I decided to write a quick series of scenes depicting what I'd like to see happen to Jaime and Brienne - regardless of probability. I never thought I would want a Happily Ever After for anyone on this show, because it doesn't seem to fit the world at all, but dammit... I do want that!

Don't leave me, even for an hour, because  
then the little drops of anguish will all run together,  
the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift  
into me, choking my lost heart.  
-from Don’t Go Far Off, Not Even for a Day by Pablo Neruda 

 

i.

 

He remembers the anguish in her voice. He can still feel the warmth of her hands framing his face. But it’s the image of Brienne’s robe, the hem collecting dirt as she strode toward him, that Jaime calls up over and over again. 

 

She wore the robe every night and every morning. They had once used it as a blanket in front of the fire when he’d been so hungry for her, they didn’t make it to the bed. Brienne _giggled_ when he once had to put it on to answer Tyrion’s knock at the door. Only hours before he rode away from Winterfell Jaime had tugged at the knot holding it together at her waist and admired her naked body underneath – a prelude to falling back onto the bed, their limbs tangled. 

 

Brienne’s robe always smelled of her, of musk and woodsmoke and the small square of soap she used in the bath. He takes a deep breath and tries to find that scent in the woods, on the road where he’s stopped the horse to rest. Jaime breathes the air into his lungs and can only find the smell of damp earth and wet stones. 

 

ii.

 

“Sansa wants to see you,” Podrick says. 

 

Brienne looks up from her empty plate, dusted with bread crumbs, and rises from her seat. 

 

“Outside,” he clarifies. “Best to bring your coat.” 

 

She grabs her furs and wrangles her long arms into the sleeves. She follows Podrick down the winding stairs and stops short at the sight of Sansa and two horses ready for travel. “Are you going somewhere, my lady?” Brienne asks. 

 

“No, but you are.” 

 

Brienne stares at her a long while and then finally says, “I don’t understand.” 

 

Sansa smiles. “You are released from your oath.” 

 

“I... don’t understand,” Brienne says again, casting a glance back at Podrick. 

 

“Ser Brienne,” Sansa begins, closing the distance between them and reaching for her protector’s hands, “I owe you my life. You did more than keep your promise to my mother. You did more than you’ll ever know. I’m safe here now. The Night King is dead and every other threat to my life is off to King’s Landing. I’m releasing you from your service. If that is what you want.” 

 

Brienne shakes her head. “Why would I want...” 

 

Sansa squeezes Brienne’s hands. She lowers her voice to a whisper. “Of course, I would like to keep you here and know you are safe, but I also don’t want to be what keeps you from going after him. If that’s what you want.” 

 

“I’m packed and ready to go, Ser,” Podrick chimes in. 

 

Brienne blinks away the sting of tears. It had been troubling Brienne how terribly she wanted to leave, to abandon her oath. “I can’t possibly, my Lady,” she says. 

 

“We both know Jaime Lannister is not my favorite person,” Sansa tells her. “But we both know he only left the way he did to protect you. And we both know it’s not like you to let a man make decisions about what you do and where you go. If this is what you want, then-” 

 

“It is,” Brienne says. “It is what I want.” 

 

iii. 

 

She bends at the waist, emptying the contents of her stomach onto the edge of the road they’ve been traveling. It is not the first time Brienne has gotten sick since leaving Winterfell. It is not even the third or fourth time. 

 

When she stands to her full height, dragging the back of her hand across her mouth, she catches Podrick staring at her with a mix of concern and suspicion. “What?” she snaps. She reaches toward him, wiggling her fingers. “Water, please.” 

 

He hurries to hand her the canteen. “We could rest here for the night,” he suggests. 

 

Brienne shakes her head, swirling the water in her mouth and spitting it out. She takes another drink, gulping the liquid down. “No. We only just got back on the road.” 

 

“But I think you’re... _sick_?” Podrick emphasizes the word, draws an exaggerated slope in the air near his stomach. 

 

She has been wondering for a while. Anything Brienne knows about pregnancy she learned from her Septa, and she would give the world to have a woman like Catelyn Stark there to advise her. She has tended to feel the sickest in the mornings and the last time she bled was before the battle against the Night King. The scraps of food they find at inns and taverns along the way do nothing to satisfy her growing appetite. 

 

Brienne looks at Podrick and whispers, “Yes, I think I might be... _sick_.” 

 

v. 

 

He rests against the trunk of an old, towering tree, its roots ragged beneath him. The lack of comfort only serves to remind Jaime of Brienne’s bed – their bed for many glorious nights – and being nuzzled against her and under soft furs. 

 

His travels allow for plenty of time to ruminate, to regret. To yearn. Jaime thinks about the warm press of Brienne’s plump lips and how difficult it was to refrain from kissing her goodbye. But if he had, he wouldn’t have been able to stop. He would have stayed with her and left all of King’s Landing vulnerable, and in time his sister’s wrath would have come for Brienne. 

 

Jaime closes his eyes, repeating over and over to himself that he made the right decision. 

 

vi. 

 

“Do you feel anything yet?” Podrick asks as they sit on the grass. 

 

The breeze ruffles Brienne’s hair. A thick lock falls across her eyes and she bats it away. “I don’t think so,” she says, pressing a hand to her belly. It doesn’t feel any different, but she has noticed a change in the fit of her breeches and her sword belt. 

 

He smiles and plucks a blade of grass from the ground, twirling it. “We should find a Maester, Ser.” 

 

Brienne nods but looks away. “What if I’m hurting it?” 

 

Podrick maneuvers to face her. “How do you mean?” 

 

“This,” she says, gesturing toward the horses and the road stretched before and behind them. 

 

“We could stand to take more breaks, Ser. But I think the wee one is strong like its mother.” 

 

Brienne blushes for a moment, but then her eyes go dark, cast down. 

 

“Ser?” 

 

“Mother,” she repeats the word, and it coils out of her mouth like a curse. “I don’t know how to be a mother, Podrick.” 

 

He scoots closer to her. “I think you do,” he says, his fingers curling over her shoulder. “I know you do.” 

 

vii. 

 

The grass is soft under Jaime's feet as he wanders from where he dismounted his horse. He hears the approach of hooves and his hand grips the handle of his sword. He is in a fighting stance by the time a pair of horses slow to a stop in front of him, and when his eyes settle on the faces of the riders, he loosens his grip on Widow’s Wail. 

 

Brienne and Podrick dismount their horses. The three of them gawk at one another. In a matter of moments Jaime’s face relays shock, relief, and anger. 

 

“I’m fine, thank you for asking,” Brienne says, breaking through the heavy silence. 

 

Jaime sighs and takes three long strides forward. He’s again rendered speechless; her eyes seem bluer, her lips softer. Her hair looks different and her cheeks are ruddy from the sun. “Hi,” is all he can manage. 

 

She shakes her head. “Hi?” 

 

“I, I’m sorry,” Jaime stammers. He glances over each shoulder before turning his eyes to her again. His hand darts out for hers, but she shakes her head and clasps her hands behind her back. “You were not supposed to come here,” he whispers. “Did you fly?” 

 

“You were right, Ser Jaime. I have never run away from a fight. And despite what you think, this is my fight too.” 

 

“But it’s not.” 

 

“But it is!” she snaps. “Your fight is my fight. I...” Brienne stops herself and takes a breath. 

 

Podrick clears his throat and gestures toward the horses. “I’ll be at the river,” he says, leaving them. 

 

Jaime pauses until they are alone. “Why though? I left you to come back-” 

 

“You left me to put yourself in harm’s way. To put a stop to Cersei. You left me because you feel responsible for everything she’s done and will do.” 

 

Jaime stares at her with wonder. “You always knew,” he states. 

 

She straightens her spine, squares her shoulders. “Not always. I had doubt.” 

 

He can see the wounds, can imagine her thinking of all the men who have disparaged her appearance and walked away from a chance to spend their lives with her. It pains him to have ever been added to the litany of men rejecting her. “I wanted to protect you,” Jaime tells her. 

 

“You think it’s up to you and you alone to right every wrong. But that’s not true, Jaime. You don’t have to shut me out. When you love someone you-” 

 

“W-what did you say?” 

 

Brienne swallows against the lump in her throat. She can see that he’s on the verge of his own heartfelt confession, that he’s going to touch her, but she sees something that he cannot; a man wearing Lannister armor with his arm locked around Podrick’s throat. Before she can speak or scream, she sees Jaime’s eyes widen and hears the sharp release of a sword from its scabbard behind her. 

 

viii. 

 

Jaime isn’t allowed to see Brienne’s face until they are dragged into the throne room and the cover is removed from her head. He counts one scratch across her right brow and sees the first bloom of a bruise along her jaw. His chest tightens and he fights the urge to attack their captors. 

 

She huffs out a strangled breath and lifts her eyes to find Jaime. She can read his face, chastising her for following him and putting herself into the exact dangerous situation he wanted to avoid. But Brienne understands something that Jaime does not; now that she is certain she is with child she has yet another reason to fight for their lives. 

 

“What a happy little family,” Cersei says as she enters the room and takes her seat on the throne. 

 

Jaime casts a sideways glance at Brienne and Podrick. He turns his attention to Cersei and drops to his knees. “I was not with them.” 

 

“You were all found together on the road with your horses.” 

 

He shakes his head. “It was a chance meeting. I was on my way back to you.” 

 

Cersei stands. “Are you saying the rumors that traveled all the way from Winterfell about the Golden Lion and Brienne the Beauty are not true?” 

 

Jaime nods fiercely. His voice drips with disgust as he says, “Of course they are not true. I’ve only ever loved one woman.” 

 

Brienne had to hide a smile, knowing he is not speaking of Cersei. 

 

“I was wrong to leave,” Jaime went on. “When I came upon them on the road, I pretended to be able to stand the sight of her.” He stumbled to his feet and closer to Cersei. “We can use them. As barter.” He felt bile sting the back of his throat. “The North will retreat if we let the honorable Maid of Tarth and her squire go. I cannot fathom why, but she is important to them.” 

 

ix. 

 

There is a commotion outside the room Brienne and Podrick have been locked inside. She is pale and her eyes are heavy with sleep, but she still manages to rise for a fight when the door snaps open. She relaxes at the sight of Jaime, then blanches as she takes note of his Lannister armor. His gold hand appears to have been polished. 

 

“Come now,” Jaime whispers, and when Podrick doesn't move he grabs the young man by the collar and hoists him up. 

 

Jaime leads them into the hall and sets an urgent pace. He reaches his left hand back and wiggles his fingers until he feels Brienne take hold of him. 

 

“What is going on?” she demands, her breaths labored. 

 

“You must leave here now,” is all Jaime says as they nearly tumble down a flight of stairs. 

 

He leads them to an open door at the back of the castle. Tyrion is there and Davos behind him. Jaime curls his left arm around Brienne’s waist and pulls her tightly against the front of his body. “You must go. Do not look back. Do not try to come back. Please.” 

 

She reaches up, framing her face with his hands. “What are you going to do?” 

 

Jaime lifts his hand to clutch the back of her head as he rises on the tips of toes, pulling Brienne down to cover her mouth with his. For a moment, they are alone in the world, and he memorizes the shape of her lips and the texture of her tongue and the sweet taste of her. With a groan, he pulls back. “I don’t know what is going to happen, Brienne, only that you cannot be here when it does.” He presses the tips of his fingers to her belly. “None of you can be here.” 

 

She looks at him, puzzled, and then Podrick clears his throat and shrugs. 

 

“I wanted to tell you,” she says. “I was going to tell you.” She manages to reach out, giving Podrick a slight shove. 

 

Jaime smiles. “I love that you wanted to fight by my side. I love that you wanted to share the burden of my past. I love you, Brienne,” he tells her with conviction and a softness neither of them knew he possessed. “But nothing could be more hateful than failing to protect you and our child.” 

 

A thick tear slips from the corner of her eye, then another. “Jaime,” she sobs, wrapping her arms around him, pressing her face into the crook of his neck. 

 

He feels her tears against his skin. He slips his left hand between them, holding it against her belly, his touch heavy but tender. “I’m glad you came after me,” he confesses. “But I won’t say goodbye this time either.” The sound of footsteps momentarily steals his attention, and he knows the pace and timbre of the sound can only belong to The Mountain. Jaime looks into Brienne’s eyes and says, “Please, go home. Go home, Brienne.” 

 

She lifts away from him, sliding her hand from his shoulder to his chest – touching him in whatever way she can before she feels Davos grab hold of her arm and pull her outside. Brienne tries to keep her eyes on Jaime in the doorway for as long as she can, but with one final nod of his head, Jaime shuts the door. 

 

x. 

 

He finds Cersei in the keep, a chalice of wine in her hand. She does not turn to look at him but says, “I always knew we would burn together, brother.” 

 

The last thing Jaime ever says to his sister is, “I’m not staying here. I’ve left something behind.” 

 

xi. 

 

Brienne’s eyes are blurry with tears. She does not observe the route they are forced upon. She only knows that suddenly they were by the water and Davos ushered them onto a boat. 

 

As King’s Landing grows smaller in the distance, she tries to catch her breath. But even at such a distance they hear the sound of an explosion and see the city swallowed by flames. 

 

Podrick is suddenly beside her, trying to hold her up or catch her from falling, whatever he can manage. It’s what he promised Jaime he would do. 

 

xii. 

 

She starts every morning standing on the balcony outside her room. Brienne stares at the sapphire waters and breathes in the clean air. She often thinks about the mornings she spent in Winterfell, her breath visible in puffs of air, the cold wind biting at her exposed skin. There are things she misses about being Lady Sansa’s sworn protector, but her best memories of Winterfell play on a loop in her head and everything else she prefers to leave there in its dark rooms and barren landscape. 

 

Brienne rubs a hand down the slope of her belly and hears Podrick calling from somewhere below. She rolls her eyes and turns to head inside. She marches her way downstairs and out. She comes upon him standing near the cliff overlooking the water. 

 

“Pod, I told you it’s unseemly to y-” 

 

He interrupts her to say, “We have a visitor.” 

 

Brienne narrows her eyes in concern. She sighs then hurries off, returning with Oathkeeper. The two of them stand guard, watching a ship slow and dock. Only one figure exits the ship and stops to look up at Evenfall before seeming to pick up a quick pace, climbing the rocky path toward them. She can see enough to know only that it is a man. 

 

As the unwelcome guest nears, Brienne takes a deep breath. She gently pats her stomach with one hand and tightens her grip on Oathkeeper with the other. She has only recently engaged in light sparring with Podrick, and she wants to avoid putting herself into a risky situation, but she has a duty to protect them all. 

 

The sound of boots slapping against stone grows louder and even as she sees golden hair and then familiar eyes and a sharp nose, Brienne can’t grasp the identify of her visitor. The air is suddenly hazy like a dream and when he stands fully in front of her, she can only cover her mouth with her hand. 

 

Jaime stands before her and a beaming Podrick. He first takes note of Brienne’s pregnant belly and emits a soft sigh of relief. “Brienne,” he whispers. 

 

She drops her hand from her face. “You couldn’t send a raven?” she asks. 

 

He balks at her tone. “A raven?” 

 

“All this time we thought you were dead!” 

 

“Well, I’m not. I thought you would be happy about that.” 

 

“I am happy!” she shouts back. Her sword drops to the ground with a clink and the two of them move forward, meeting in a tight embrace. 

 

Podrick slinks away with a grin on his face. 

 

“I really did think you dead,” Brienne cries softly against Jaime’s shoulder. 

 

He rubs his hand up and down her back. “I know. I’m sorry.” 

 

Brienne leans back and rests her hands on his chest. She studies his face, feels the beat of his heart, convincing herself he is real. “What happened?” 

 

“I don’t want to talk about that right now.” 

 

She nods and asks, “How did you know to find me here?” 

 

“I told you to go home,” he says. 

 

Brienne smiles but points out, “I could have gone to Winterfell.” 

 

He shakes his head. “You belong by the sea. And truth be told, I’ve always wanted to see Tarth with you.” 

 

She bends, pressing her forehead to his. 

 

Jaime looks down at the curve of her belly between them. “I was afraid I would be too late." 

 

“The Maester says I have at least three turns of the moon left.” 

 

He lets out a contented sigh. “Good. I don’t want to miss a moment more.” 

 

xiii. 

 

Making love to Brienne is different. It’s not the time apart and it’s not even the baby growing inside her or the changes it has brought to her body. _She_ is different. More confident. More skilled at not only seeking her own pleasure but remembering how Jaime liked to be touched and finding a way to make it even better. 

 

At first, they had been reckless, urgent with need, knocking into furniture and bruising one another. But when they both realized the world was no longer about to end, they built a slow, sweet pace. She sits atop him, rocking her hips slowly. Their bodies are locked in an embrace, their skin shining in the moonlight with a sheen of sweat. 

 

Brienne notices change as well. Jaime is without his gold hand – left it behind – and he smiles more. There were times at Winterfell his hips were frenzied, seemingly trying to fuck away his conflict and self-hatred. There were times he seemed distant, part of him having been lost along the way. Now, she knows, she has all of him. 

 

“I want to tell you something,” Jaime says, his voice raspy. 

 

She leans back a bit to look him in the eye. “Hmm?” 

 

His breath catches when she bucks down, the arch of her back creating a new sensation for them both. Jaime has to find his voice again. He secures his left arm around her back and says, “I’m never leaving you again. Not even for a day.” 

 

Brienne smiles and seeks his mouth, pausing just before their lips meet to say, “Not even for an hour.”


End file.
